Come Fly With Me (56 page)

He
turned
to
look
at
her,
and
she
felt
a
moment
of
panic
as
she
looked
into
his
clear,
intelligent
eyes.
"Alex,
I'm
scared
right
now—I
don't
know
what
they're
going
to
tell
me."
She
took
a
deep
breath,
"I
really
appreciate
all
that
you've
done
for
me—for
being
such
a
good
friend.
I
haven't
been
all
that
nice
to
you.
Please
accept
my
apologies."

"There's
no
need
to
apologize
and
no
need
to
sound
so
formal."

She
shook
her
head,
"This
is
me
being
grateful.
It
seems
like
I'm
pretty
rusty
at
it."

"So
it
seems,"
he
said
with
an
odd
expression
on
his
face.
"Let's
go
see
what
was
so
urgent
that
the
police
had
to
drag
us
up
here
in
the
middle
of
a
snowstorm."

They
trudged
up
the
barely-shoveled
steps
outside
the
Police
Station
and
asked
for
Detective
Fitzsimmons.
They
spotted
him
as
he
waved
at
them
from
a
glass-enclosed
office
at
the
back
of
a
room
filled
with
desks
piled
high
with
discarded
coffee
cups.

"Detective,
this
is
my
work
colleague,
Alexander
Coventry,"
Allison
said.

The
men
shook
hands.
"Ms.
Ross,
I
prefer
to
speak
with
you
alone."
Det.
Fitzsimmons
said.

"Please,
Detective,
I
can
vouch
for
Alex.
Tell
me
what
you've
uncovered."

He
nodded.
"This
turned
up
on
the
property
of
the
home
where
your
father
had
his
accident."
His
hand
came
out
from
under
his
desk,
as
he
handed
Allison
a
Burberry
scarf
wrapped
in
a
plastic
forensic
bag.
"The
gardeners
came
in
to
landscape
the
backyard
and
they
found
that
this
had
gotten
buried
under
the
ground.
Do
you
recognize
it?"

"It
looks
familiar,
but
I'm
not
sure..."

"I'm
wearing
the
same
one,"
Alex
said.

Allison
stared
at
him
as
he
yanked
on
his
scarf.
She
knew
he
was
speaking
because
she
saw
his
lips
moving,
but
the
sudden
ringing
in
her
ears
blocked
out
all
sound.
Allison
roused
herself
from
her
fog
in
enough
time
to
hear
Alex
say,
"It
was
a
Christmas
gift
that
Daniel
Ross
gave
out
last
year
to
all
the
board
members."

"But
you're
not
a
board
member,"
Allison
finally
found
her
voice.

"A
few
others
got
them,
as
well."

"Who
exactly
got
the
scarves,
Mr.
Coventry?"
the
detective
asked.

"Besides
the
board
members,
only
Bradley
Ross
and
myself."

"Maybe
this
is
my
father's
scarf,"
Allison
said,
looking
at
the
detective.

"No,"
Alex
said.
"He
didn't
have
one.
I
remember
him
berating
Natalya
for
not
ordering
enough
so
he
could
look
like
'part
of
the
team'."

Allison
turned
toward
the
detective,
"Well
surely
that
scarf
could
belong
to
absolutely
anybody.
A
Burberry
scarf
in
my
parents'
neighborhood
is
practically
a
uniform."

"Not
exactly,
because
these
scarves
are
unique,"
the
detective
replied.
"Mr.
Coventry,
would
you
care
to
show
Ms
.Ross
what
I
mean?"

Alex
turned
his
scarf
over
and
showed
Allison
a
label,
"Your
father
had
these
specially
made
up
for
all
of
us."

Allison
peered
closely
at
the
white
label
with
gold
script
letters
that
read,
Happy Holidays-Daniel Ross.

"Wow,
so
what
do
you
make
of
this?"
she
turned
her
attention
back
to
the
detective.

"There's
something
else.
We
had
told
you
that
the
streetlight
over
the
property
was
out.
When
we
called
the
town
to
see
if
it
had
been
reported,
they
said
it
had
not
been
called
in.
They
called
us
back
a
couple
of
days
later
when
a
technician
went
out
to
change
the
bulb..."
the
detective
paused,
"It
had
been
shot
out."

"Shot
out?"
Allison
felt
like
she
was
underwater
again
and
had
to
struggle
to
keep
up
the
thread
of
the
conversation,
"Are
you
saying
someone
shot
at
the
streetlamp?"

"Yes.
Someone
who
had
considerable
skill
with
a
rifle
and
access
to
one.
I
know
this
may
be
overwhelming,
but
I
need
you
to
pay
close
attention
when
you
go
back
to
the
office.
Listen
to
people's
conversations—their
tone
when
they
speak
of
your
father.
When
someone
doesn't
think
they're
being
watched,
that's
the
moment
when
they'll
slip
up."